


Restoring Connections

by queenshroom



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kiibo is human, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, it's Ouma not Oma, the Ouma Befriends Everyone initiative, virtual reality au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenshroom/pseuds/queenshroom
Summary: After waking up in a cold facility, abandoned by Team Danganronpa, Saihara and the others stumble back into reality and start to figure themselves out again.A compilation of my Virtual Reality AU fics. Mostly Ouma/Oumasai centric.





	Restoring Connections

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to 96percentdone for betaing! you're wonderful!  
> some things to note before you dive in:  
> -everything in the game is still canon, the only thing that's changed is it was virtual reality (super original, I know-)  
> -I'll be referring to everyone by last name, but anything I use or quote from the game will be the localization.  
> -most future chapters with Ouma will be in Ouma's POV, with the exception of this one. I'll mention whose POV it is in the titles of each chapter.  
> -these will all be loosely connected. it's just gonna be one big collection for this AU.  
> -Kiibo is human because I can't make myself leave him out.

A blinding light. A blinding light and nothing else. Saihara didn't know how he got here from the dome, wherever here was. _Am I... dead after all?_ he thought, trying to move any part of his body. No response. Just static in his limbs. White noise in his ears and brain. No pain, just... nothing. _Then it really was the end... Thank goodness..._

He suddenly felt a tug right behind one of his ears. _Felt?_ The static in his body slowly started fading as Saihara grew more aware of how the brightness was hurting his eyes. _What's going on...?_ More tugging. There was more touching him now. _Hands... Who's there?_ He became hyper aware of the heartbeat in his chest, beating wildly as if it had been in a deep sleep until now. Over the rushing of his pulse in his ears, he started to hear... voices? Several overlapping voices and beeping. If he wasn't dead, where was he?

A pull forward and his sense of balance came back all too quickly as he fell to his knees. The cold floor sent a shiver through his whole body, and he finally squinted his eyes open and tried to focus on the reality he was now a part of.

Reality...

His reality not thirty seconds (minutes? hours?) ago was standing in a pile of rubble, looking up at the broken glass falling from the dome overhead and wondering what was past the smoke and dust and beyond. Saihara didn't notice it happening, but the ringing in his ears from the school collapsing started growing louder until it was noise overpowering his thoughts, and soon the static traveled down his entire body. It tugged at his brain until he was sure he was rising out of his corporeal form. He opened his mouth, but his voice was stuck in his throat like peanut butter. His vision finally whited out, and before limbo held him for what felt like days to him he thought, _It's all ending now._

And yet, Saihara was now staring at the tile floor beneath him as he was suddenly aware of his body, unfamiliar people surrounding and crowding him talking in what might as well have been another language. The strange heaviness in his limbs, the strain on his neck trying keep his head upright, the flooding of too much information at once to his brain, it hit him all at once and made him dizzy. It was way too much, like an old computer trying to boot up for the first time in years.

It was too soon when the lab coats grabbed him to lift him to his feet and drag him elsewhere, his knees instantly buckling and making him little more than dead weight. Being pulled about like a ragdoll set fire off in his body, scorching his muscles and burning him down to the bone. Saihara thinks he tried to struggle against them, but with the traffic jam in his mind he wasn't sure of anything.

The hallway was just as bright as the room he was dragged out of. The walls and tile floor were just as white. The lab coats were all the same. All of the faces blended together in a blurry mess of shapes and vague human appearances. The room he was pushed into was the same as the rest. The medical instruments reflected the blinding LED lights above in his eyes, and each time, Saihara felt a new pulse of pain surge through his head. Machines beeped at him, people talked at him, the environment swirled around him, but nothing stuck.

Another room. More lab coats. The same walls.

Another room.

Beeping.

Swirling.

White walls.

Too bright.

It was all the same.

Weeks could have passed and he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. It couldn't have been more than a day however, Saihara guessed as lucidity started coming back to him. Finally, he was left alone, or at least he wasn't being crowded anymore. In his moment of peace, he relaxed as best as he could laying on the paper covered table and closed his eyes. He wasn't sleepy, but the overload of information left him exhausted. At the very least, however, he could process it all now. Researchers, vitals returning to normal, ratings plummeting, avatars, virtual... _It's all there,_ he thought, _the pieces are all there... I just need a little more to connect it all..._

Then, two voices on the other side of the room broke his thoughts.

“Shame what happened to these kids.”

“At least we got to them in time. Imagine what the producers would have done if they were the ones to wake them up.”

Saihara didn't open his eyes, but his ears perked as he listened intently on the voices.

One grunted as some papers are rustled. “They did destroy their show, so I can't imagine they'd be very nice about it. The highest rated season of the show so far, with the most anticipated finale, and it didn't even finish before it all crashed. Can you read this real quick?”

The other voice replied, “Oh, yes, let me see.” More papers rustling, then a sigh. “And the stunt those kids pulled there allowed us to successfully infiltrate Team Danganronpa's studio here. If you could call this a studio.” They both chuckled. “Are all of the producers gone? I only saw a couple flee when I came in.”

“They must be. Not sure where they're gonna go. I'm not worried about it, though, that's not my job. I'm just here to help rehabilitate these kids.” A rhythmic tapping sound filled the room, which Saihara presumed to be a pen tapping the desk. “Or at least the ones that we can wake up. Any word on the ones who died in that program?”

Suddenly Saihara felt his heart drop like a shot put ball. _Ugh, wait, don't think about that right now,_ he scolded himself.

There's a long pause that only made Saihara's anxiety grow the longer it goes on. “Well... I haven't heard anything in awhile, but last I checked the programmers are still searching the coding for their avatars. I did see those files from the last few previous seasons, though. Apparently Team Danganronpa just took the ones who died and pronounced them brain dead before pulling the plug.”

“If the programmers can't find where their deleted avatars were sent, we might have to do the same.”

Saihara's throat tightened. _Brain dead...? Pull the plug?_

“Hey, we've been working way too hard these last few months to shut this down to think so pessimistically. Anyway, this looks fine, I think we can move forward with these results–”

Tuning out the voices once again, Saihara opened his eyes slowly and stared at the same white ceiling above him. Everything he just heard, it was like the key that unlocked the mysteries of his situation. He could see it! _Then it was all a simulation... Like the virtual world Iruma-san showed us... And they're trying to bring our friends back to us. Is such a thing even possible, though...?_ His fists clenched as he inhaled deeply, trying to chase away the doubt in his mind. _No, I want it to be possible. It must be possible. If we could make a miracle by shutting down the game, then maybe there are more miracles..._

Someone softly shook Saihara's shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to acknowledge her. “Um, excuse me? Saihara Shuichi, right?” the nurse spoke quietly, as if afraid she'd startle him if she spoke too loud. She held a clipboard close to her chest, gripping it with thin, plain fingers. Slowly, he nodded. “Ah, good... It's late, and since we're done with examinations I'm going to take you to where you'll be staying, okay?” She smiled when she finished, though it looked forced.

Saihara sat up and placed his feet on the cold tile again, holding back a shiver. “Where I'll be staying?”

“Oh, I guess no one explained anything to you, huh?” the nurse laughed nervously.

 _I'm pretty sure you're the only one that's even asked me a question directly,_ he silently answered.

She continued, motioning for Saihara to follow her, “Well, I'll try my best to fill you in on the way. Do you need any help walking?” He carefully pushed himself onto his feet to stand, and though a little wobbly at first, he was able to follow behind the nurse, albeit slowly.

The nurse hadn't given him much in terms of new information, but the confirmation was more than a bit comforting to him. Besides, listening to her talk let him ignore the white walls trying to pull him into their monotonous void again. Soon, he was brought to a long hall of rooms, which were apparently exam rooms converted into dormitories for them. After a quick good night, the nurse dropped him off into a room, and once the tap tap tap of her shoes faded away he was enveloped in total silence for the first time.

Had the last day even happened? Or was Saihara hallucinating the whole thing after the events of that last trial?

He hadn't seen Harukawa or Yumeno at all, so maybe they weren't even real.

It was too much to think about.

He meant to sit on the lonely looking bed in the corner, but he ended up collapsing onto it. Before Saihara could think about how tired he actually felt after all, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

_

 

Saihara awoke to a sudden knocking on his door. As he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the nurse from the night before entered, holding a couple folded articles in her arms. “Good morning, Saihara-san!” she announced cheerily. She held out the folded bundle to him. “I brought these for you, so you can have a shower and a change of clothes before breakfast.”

Looking down, he was embarrassed to notice for the first time he was wearing only a hospital gown. He mumbled a soft “thank you” and took the clothes and towel from the nurse.

The nurse turned to leave, but before shutting the door she spun back around with a small clap of her hands. “Ah, that's right! At the end of the hall that way–“ she pointed to her right “–you'll find the shower room. The left one is for boys, okay? I'll come get you in about thirty minutes, and after breakfast I'll give you the grand tour!” She smiled brightly, then finally turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Yawning one last time, Saihara stood and unfolded the clothing in his hands, laying them out on the bed. Black sweatpants, a white shirt, and a light grey sweatshirt. _It looks like a prison uniform,_ he observed with disgust. _At least I won't have to wear this gown anymore..._ He sighed and collected the outfit in his arms before heading out.

One shower, breakfast, and a lackluster tour of his new living quarters (which the nurse tried _very_ hard to make seem more exciting), it was back to being prodded by the doctors and researchers. Saihara didn't see any sign of Yumeno or Harukawa still, and asking only got him a tired shrug from people who'd rather be unconscious than here. Not that he could blame them. Still, the hours of the same thing were making him antsy. How much longer was he going to be put through this?

Breaking his thoughts from the mind-numbing repetitive monotony was a sudden collection of researchers running past the lab room he was in, shouting at each other along the way. The doctor with Saihara glanced into the hallway before looking down at his tablet, reading the notification it just alerted him to. Hesitantly, Saihara asked, “What's going on with them?”

“Hmm? Oh, some sort of situation in the computer room.” The doctor slid the tablet back into the pocket of his lab coat. He seemed to be done talking, but Saihara certainly wasn't done.

“But they looked panicked, is everything alright?”

He waved his hand dismissively at Saihara and picked up the stethoscope from the counter next to him. “They have it under control. Now, stay still and take deep breaths.”

That was the end of that, then. _Computer room... Could that be where they're working on finding those avatars?_ He pursed his lips, trying to connect the dots. But without the information, there wasn't a conclusion he could draw. _Damn it... I hope it means what I think it does. Please bring my friends back..._

The next round of tests were done and Saihara was left in his room once again. No Harukawa or Yumeno, no word on the others, no information of how long he was even going to be kept here. They were no longer in that prison school, but this was hardly preferable. The possibility of meeting his dead friends again was the only thing keeping him from thinking they were the same place. Though if he couldn't even see his _living_ friends...

A knock on his door, and the nurse opened his door with a polite smile. “Saihara-san? Um, we– a couple of the other staff and I –wanted to have sort of a daily group gathering for you guys, and I just came to get you for it.”

“Group... gathering?” Saihara repeated slowly. “I won't be the only one going then?”

“Of course not! We were kind of hoping that, because of what happened to you and all, it would help promote the healing process, and maybe ease the trauma if you're all together when you talk about it.” She rambled on a little longer, but he had heard all he needed. He swiftly stood up, startling the nurse a bit and cutting her off. Still, she recovered quickly and led him away.

They couldn't arrive faster for him. Saihara had been wanting to see his friends since he first woke up. _Because they're my friends, but also because I need to see familiar faces._ _I'm so tired of the dozens of strangers._ The lounge the nurse was taking him to was only a couple minute's walk away, but with his impatience rising it could have been days for all he knew.

But the nurse finally stopped in front of a door. She pushed it open–

And there they were.

Harukawa and Yumeno, alive and right in front of him.

Saihara had no idea who started the hug, or who started crying first, but none of them said a word as they collapsed into an exhausted, crying heap.

The three survivors, left by the producers who pitted them all against each other in an inhuman killing display, with no answers for any of it. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but they were _here._

They were _out_.

Yumeno laid in between him and Harukawa, sobbing into the fabric of their matching outfits. Saihara and Harukawa held the messy circle together and keeping them close once again. It was familiarity they all needed. Their shared warmth, finally safe, something they hadn't had in _so long_.

“We're here,” Saihara said, wiping his face even though he knew it was futile.

Muffled by Harukawa's sweatshirt, Yumeno nodded and replied, “It's over.”

“Yeah, it's over,” Harukawa repeated.

The three of them could have stayed there forever, but the ache in their limbs from the uncomfortable position on the floor told them it was time to untangle themselves and get up. Standing on slightly unsteady legs, they sat in the cheap folding chairs that were set up for them, and the woman at the head of the room finally began to speak.

She introduced herself as the research group's psychologist. “Before I get into anything heavy,” she explained, “I want to give you some information since you're all together now. I'll do my best to be brief.” Apparently, Saihara and the others were going to be kept at this facility for about fifty days, giving them time to be reacquainted with reality while they're evaluated. In time, they _should_ regain some of their memories from before the program, but even the researchers weren't sure if they'd recover them all. They were also being offered the opportunity to read their file and watch their audition tape if they so chose, as the producers had left them behind in their haste to leave. Saihara listened with the other two, glancing at them every so often.

Folding her hands in her lap, the psychologist sighed and smiled. “With that out of the way, then, let's begin-”

“Wait,” a meek voice interrupted. Saihara turned his head and saw Yumeno staring intently at the psychologist. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “What's going to happen to the others?”

“The others...?” The woman tilted her head to the side a bit. “Oh, you mean the other participants? You shouldn't worry too much about them, they're going to be okay.”

Yumeno shook her head, gripping her sweatpants until her knuckles went white. “No, tell us. We deserve to know... What about the others?”

It shocked Saihara a little to hear Yumeno demand anything, with that much confidence. Then again, he shouldn't be surprised, since they all kept their in game memories. She still had her resolve.

The psychologist hesitated, seemingly choosing her words carefully. “Well... We were searching through the program files, trying to find the other participants' avatars– they supposedly got deleted upon their deaths. And, we actually managed to find where they were being stored, they weren't erased.”

The three were on the edge of their seats with bated breath.

“We... We managed to start reviving them.”

She barely finished speaking when all three of them started speaking at once, shooting rapid fire questions at the weary woman hoping for any more information. They actually brought their friends back! When could they see them? Where are they now? How are they doing? She didn't give them much else besides vague promises of “we're working on it” and “we'll be able to tell you more soon.” In the end, the gathering hadn't gone how it was supposed to, but it gave Saihara, Harukawa, and Yumeno more hope than they'd ever had, even inside of the game.

The walk back to their rooms was silent, but it wasn't melancholic; in fact, it was like stepping out the rubble once again. A new hope changed their world again.

Saihara turned to meet Yumeno's and Harukawa's eyes, noticing the same feelings in their faces as his own. He nodded in understanding. They were sharing the same thoughts. _We've been given another miracle. Taking down the game was the first. We're righting the wrongs._

_We're not going to let the game ruin our lives anymore._

_

 

Saihara could hardly sleep that night. In fact, he wasn't sure if he fell asleep at all. The anxiousness and impatience had him tossing and turning, and every sound in the hall he heard made him think, _Is that them?_ Honestly, what he wanted to do was run down the hall knocking on each door hoping someone would be inside to answer him. If the door to the medical side of the facility wasn't locked at all times, he'd run through the entire building looking for _any_ of them. But instead, he laid in this stiff bed, kicking the sheets and staring holes into the ceiling and walls. He'd just spent so long mourning his friends that the idea it could all be taken back had him unable to stay still. How much longer does he have to wait?

The knock at his door came, and Saihara sat up immediately, ignoring the sudden lightheadedness he felt. _This is it, right? I can see them now?_ He wound his hands up into his sheets as the nurse opened the door and peeked inside.

“Saihara-san? I came to wake you for breakfast,” she greeted with a bright smile.

A chill ran down his spine as he was suddenly aware of the sweat on the back of his neck. “Um, my friends... The other participants, where are they?” Saihara asked, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Oh, I wouldn't know about that, I'm in charge of those staying here right now.”

“So they're... still with the researchers?”

The nurse nodded. “I haven't been called to bring any of them here yet. I'm not sure where specifically they are though, I'm sorry I can't be more helpful than that.”

“No, it's alright,” Saihara sighed, releasing the now wrinkled sheets from his hands. If there was nothing else she could do, it wasn't her fault. _But waiting like this... It's like torture. I'm tired of playing the waiting game. I could barely take being up all night._ But it seemed he didn't have a choice but to wait longer. He resigned himself to this fact, getting out of bed and stretching his sore body.

Breakfast dragged. The anxiety coursing through his body made it difficult to eat (not that the simple meal was to die for anyway), and he spent the hour tapping his foot and sneaking glances at Harukawa and Yumeno. Saihara hadn't noticed how _different_ each of them looked outside of the game. Sure, their faces hadn't changed, but there were noticeable differences in the two.

Harukawa's hair seemed to be shorter than Saihara remembered, tied back in a haphazard ponytail. Her face seemed... less hardened, relaxed even. Her eyes still held a certain loneliness or sadness in them, but since she had never been an assassin she looked... normal. _How did I not notice this last night?_ Saihara thought, shaking his head. She held her head high on her shoulders, though, still carrying that gracefully mysterious aura about her that she kept in the game. Despite her exhaustion clearly showing on her face, Harukawa made it look easy to ignore it.

Meanwhile, Yumeno fared the worst between the two. She was still the same height, but her body was so much smaller. Malnourished, it looked like. Her pale hands shook slightly when she lifted the chopsticks to her mouth, like it was a struggle to accomplish the action. Still though, her cheeks were naturally tinted pink, her skin showing life. And, even though the dark circles under her eyes revealed she hadn't slept a wink in the last few days, Yumeno was still bright eyed. Through it all, she still held on to hope. Saihara felt a little jealous of that.

Eventually, picking at his plate wasn't enough to keep his attention. With a sigh he pushed himself from the table and turned to leave. Harukawa called after him, “What's the matter? Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, I just... I need to walk around.” Before waiting for a response, he hurried out of the dining hall.

That was how he found himself pacing the halls, looking at the clock through the window to the lounge as he passed it each time. At first Saihara counted his laps around the facility, but as he grew more frustrated with the slow passage of time he lost count. His mind cycled through the same thoughts on loop; _I want to see my friends again. I want to see Akamatsu-san again. What would I say to her now? Can I face her? I can't take this waiting any longer._ He was sure he'd end up with ulcers by the end of the day if it kept up like this.

“Saihara, wait,” Yumeno caught him before he passed the lounge again, lightly grabbing his sleeve. “You have been doing this all day... Will you come sit with me and Harukawa?”

He bit his lip for a second. “I don't know... I feel so antsy, I don't think I could stand sitting still.”

She looked back through the doorway at Harukawa for a second, searching for an answer, then reached and grabbed Saihara’s arm. “It's almost time for the group gathering. Please come sit with us. They’ve gotta show up soon.”

 _It seems like I don't have much of a choice,_ Saihara thought in resignation. Finally, he nodded and followed Yumeno into the lounge, sitting in between Harukawa and her.

Five minutes after the meeting time (with Saihara glancing up at the clock almost obsessively), the psychologist swung open the door with a huff. “Good evening, I'm sorry I'm late,” she sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “We were hoping these gatherings would be mandatory, but it seems that some of those cleared by the researchers... don't want to leave their rooms.” She forced a smile on her lips, the smeared lipstick becoming more obvious as she did so. Her blazer was half untucked from her skirt, and Saihara didn't have to be a detective to notice how frustrated she looked.

“Don't want to leave their rooms... Are you saying our friends are-”

Saihara didn't get to finish his question. No sooner did the psychologist sit down did the heavy doors to the lounge open with a loud squeak once again. A pale face framed by disheveled blonde hair looked up from the floor as she entered, shoulders hunched like she dragged herself miles to get here.

And at the same time, Saihara turned and locked eyes with her.

He knew those eyes. Saihara _knew_ those eyes.

“A-Akamatsu-san!”

The flimsy folding chair he'd been sitting on clattered to the floor as it toppled over when he dashed out of it.

“Saihara-kun? Saihara-kun!”

Saihara embraced Akamatsu tightly. He never thought he could do this again, and seeing her, _feeling_ her again in his arms, it was almost too good to be true for him. He was struck with the fear that if he let go, she'd be yanked away again. He rested his forehead on her shaking shoulder and cried “I'm sorry, I'm sorry” against the cotton of her sweater. He could hear Akamatsu's voice getting caught in her throat as she choked out a sob and hugged him tighter against her.

“I couldn't do anything to save you, I'm so sorry, Akamatsu-san, I'm sorry...”

“No, I'm here now because of you...”

He could feel Akamatsu's warmth radiate through his whole body. The chill in the room was all but gone as they embraced. She smelled like the sterile environment they were living in, but Saihara paid it no mind. The pure elation he was feeling made him feel like he was floating; _this_ is what he was waiting for. All of the anxiety and fear melted away in Akamatsu's arms. This journey hadn't been for nothing.

When they broke apart, they exchanged smiles of relief. The impossible was made possible. This was a true testament to how they'd manage to overcome the odds and completely break the game they set out to end.

 _She's finally here, and I can finally tell her everything I'd wanted to say,_ Saihara thought, squeezing her shoulders lightly and earning a soft squeeze to his own shoulders back. _Everything is still so uncertain, but right now it's okay. I couldn't ask for more than this._

During the tearful reunion, two others had slipped in to join the group– Amami, whose posture indicated he was rather relaxed given the circumstances, and to Saihara's surprise Shirogane. She had her arms crossed tightly around her body, gnawing on her cheek as she glared at the floor with the intensity to bore holes into it. Once he and Akamatsu sat down, Shirogane glanced up quickly to scowl at them before her eyes darted back down.

Harukawa was the first to break the awkward tension and address her, not bothering to hide her scorn. “You're part of Team Danganronpa. So why are you here?”

Shirogane scratched at the back of her wrist. “I know, you'd rather I stayed dead. You can just say it.” A pause. “They left me. With the series now canceled, I'm as useless to them as you are."

“They... left you here?” Saihara asked.

“Is it that surprising? I started out auditioning like the rest of you, you know. They wanted to recruit me, to work behind the scenes with them... Who wouldn't agree?” She crossed her legs and turned to look at the wall. “But I guess I was disposable, too. Not like it matters, it's over anyway.”

Her face still held a bitter frown, but her voice betrayed her, carrying a sad melody. Her words left Saihara deep in thought. _If that's true, then in the end she's no different than we are... Even though she orchestrated the trial that wrongly send Akamatsu-san to her execution, even though she was behind this killing game... Shirogane-san is the same as us, just someone Team Danganronpa manipulated for a show. Right now I don't think I can find it in me to forgive her, the pain is so fresh, but..._

“Well then...” he started, taking a deep breath and sitting up to fully look at her. “If that's the case, you're going to be stuck here with us after all. We're all here for the same reason.”

Shirogane brought her hands to her lap as she turned to him. “Hmm? What's your point?”

“We're all here trying to heal after the game, which means you are too. In time, we can still become friends.”

Harukawa snorted. “Not likely,” she muttered, Saihara elbowing her in the side.

Yumeno nodded earnestly, moving away from Shirogane. “After everything she did, being friends with her would be difficult.”

Seemingly unaffected by their words, Shirogane asked carefully, “You think that's something I want to do?”

 _I can't say I didn't expect this, but I need someone to back me up..._ Saihara looked at Akamatsu, silently pleading with her. She smiled in response and squeezed his arm.

“After they woke me up,” Akamatsu began, “they explained to me what happened. They told me why I'm alive right now, why it all ended, and when I heard about the events of the last trial I understood. I'm alive because of my friends who wouldn't forget about me no matter what. And,” she trailed off, meeting Shirogane's gaze and showing her a gentle smile. “And, I think we can all start to move forward.”

Picking up where she ended, Saihara added, “And I'll still believe in you.”

Stunned silent, Shirogane searched their faces for any hint of a lie, then turned to Amami who offered an unhelpful shrug. She pulled herself closer together and twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, but... _She's not angry,_ Saihara noticed. _I think we got to her after all._

She didn't speak further that night, but as the hour went on her face relaxed. It would take a long time to be forgiven by the others, himself included, but they were all being given a second chance that shouldn't have existed in the first place. Even if she was never forgiven, she could move forward with the rest of them.

_

 

To say Saihara was feeling sluggish the next morning would be an understatement. He'd yawned more times than he cared to count, and the dining table was looking like a great place to rest his head and take a nap. He ended up staying up later than he anticipated, sitting in the lounge with Akamatsu just talking until early morning. They finally had a chance to catch up, even though his lack of sleep the last few days decided to catch up with him as well.

On his right, Akamatsu nudged him softly. “Hey, wake up, sleepyhead,” she teased. “Otherwise, you're going to make a pillow out of your food.”

Saihara laughed and covered his mouth to yawn again. “It's your fault for talking to me for so long last night.”

“But you didn't stop us either, you know.” She smiled wide and rested her chin in her hands.

They weren't alone that morning, joined by everyone but Shirogane, who opted to eat in her room with little protest. From across the table, Harukawa interrupted, “Well, besides Saihara we're all glad you're back, too.” She hesitated before letting herself show a smile of her own. “You left an impact on us.”

“Some of us were left with a different kind of impact,” Amami said, grinning as he tapped a finger to his head.

Yumeno stood and hit him on the arm, though not strong enough for it to hurt him. “Even if it's you, it's too soon to joke like that!” Regardless, everyone at the table laughed, even Akamatsu (though, Saihara noticed, she did cringe slightly).

Saihara watched his friends fondly. _This is what I wanted for us, to be able to forget for a while and laugh together. If the rest of our days here are like this, I couldn't be happier._ With a content sigh, he let his eyes flutter shut, leaning against his arm laying on the table. _This is what I wanted..._

The dining hall door opened again, though he didn't react and continued to rest his head. It was when he heard an unfamiliar (was it familiar?) voice say “hello” that he shot up and spun to find to source of the voice.

It was... someone he hadn't seen before. Or at least, he thought he hadn't seen him before. _But why is he so familiar...?_ The boy had a mop of white hair on his head and steel blue-gray eyes, his face _almost_ recognizable enough to place, but not quite. Looking down, Saihara saw metal past the ends of his pants, but this person was undeniably human. _That's why I'm struggling to come to a conclusion... It couldn't actually be–_

“Kiibo-kun?” he finished out loud. The moment of silence hung thick in the air of the dining hall, everyone waiting for the answer.

Slowly, the boy nodded.

“Yes… it’s me.”

In an instant Saihara and the others crowded around Kiibo, shocked to find a human standing in front of them calling himself that name and asking questions all at once. Kiibo held up his hands in defeat, unable to get a word into the questioning. _Ah, we're never going to get an explanation like this_ , Saihara sighed and moved in front of the boy, silencing them all in moments.  
  
“We should let him explain. I'm sure he has a lot to tell us.” He turned to Kiibo and smiled. “Right?”  
  
“Ah,” he nodded and returned the gesture. “Right.”  
  
Once they had all seated themselves again, with Kiibo in the center of the group, he began. “I know this must look really strange... I had a hard time grasping this as well, when I was revived. I'm... still struggling to understand, actually.” He looked down at his hands and squeezed his hands into fists a couple times. “But I looked at my files and saw my audition, and that helped me remember a little more. Though, ah... I guess I'll never know why they did that to me...”  
  
“They?” Akamatsu asked.  
  
“Team Danganronpa. I auditioned wanting to be the Ultimate Robotics Student. I wanted to be someone that gave the other students hope, like the protagonist does. On my file, they made notes that I would be the perfect opportunity for them to add audience participation... Shirogane-san specifically added on there that making me a robot would be an interesting twist. She...” Kiibo trailed off and shrunk into himself, losing confidence.  
  
Saihara put a hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, you can tell us.”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s not that… It would be easier to show you, I think.”  
  
Scooting his chair back away from the table, Kiibo pulled the legs of his pants up over his knees, a murmur sounding through the group as he revealed–  
  
“Prosthetic legs?”  
  
“Shirogane thought that it would be interesting to take this part of me and apply it to the rest of me,” Kiibo confirmed, his cheeks reddening from the attention he was getting.  
  
“So they used this and your audition as a way to put the audience into the game,” Amami said as he put a finger to his chin. “By sacrificing your individuality, they were able include the viewers while still having a sixteenth student. Cruel, but I suppose cruelty was what they were good at, huh?”  
  
Yumeno interjected, motioning to Kiibo's lower half, “What about your legs? Are they the reason why you wanted to be a robotics student?”  
  
He was silent for a moment as he thought of an answer. “Well, sort of. I've always been building and making things, and when I got these, I started messing with them and building on top of them. I wanted to try to use my skills in robotics to make these prosthetics as good as regular legs. So... I guess Ultimate Robotics Student was the obvious choice for me when I auditioned.”  
  
“For them to do something like that to you, though...” Harukawa said solemnly.  
  
“It's been difficult grasping it, since I still have my memories from the program. I believe the word I'm looking for to describe these feelings would be 'dysphoric.'”  
  
“Even though none of us can fully relate,” Saihara started, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance, “I speak for all of us when I say that we're all here if you need someone to lean on. We're all messed up, too.” He smiled warmly, the group echoing his words in agreement. Kiibo, shock washing over his face, nodded his head and wiped the wetness in his eyes.  
  
Changing the topic, Akamatsu asked, “By the way, were you released with anyone else? The researches let me out with Amami-kun and Shirogane-san, so I'm wondering if anyone was with you.”  
  
“Oh, I actually was, now that you mention it. Ouma-kun was with me, but I didn't speak to him. He didn't say anything to me, either, and he stayed in his room once it was given to him.”  
  
Ouma-kun... The name alone sent Saihara's mind into a tailspin. His feelings on the boy were... definitely complicated, to put it lightly. _Before Iruma-san's trial, he was someone I called my friend. He toyed with me a lot, but the games we played were fun. Before it all ended, I was fond of him, even. But..._ A shudder went down his spine as he thought about what Ouma turned into. _Even though I know why he did it, even though I know his intentions weren't to screw with us... He still scares me. I don't know if I could face him right now. I don't know..._  
  
His train of thought was interrupted as Harukawa huffed and crossed her arms. “He can stay in there. He doesn't have to come out. Ever.”  
  
“Harukawa-san!” Akamatsu exclaimed, sighing in exasperation when Yumeno wholeheartedly agreed with Harukawa.  
  
The lull in conversation brought new conversation, pulling Kiibo into the group like was always there. There was no question in their acceptance of him; he was always their friend, robot or human.  
  
Over the next few days, the rest of the students slowly rejoined Saihara and the others. The evening after Kiibo showed himself, Momota and Chabashira came through the lounge doors and pulled overwhelming emotions of elation out of the three original survivors. Harukawa immediately warned Momota never to scare her like that again, despite being the furthest thing from mad she could be. Momota pulled both her and Saihara into a tight hug and promised not to leave his sidekicks again. Yumeno collapsed into Chabashira's arms, sobbing into her chest as Chabashira held her and comforted her as best she could through her own tears. Even after Yumeno was out of tears to cry for the moment, she never left her side for the rest of the night.  
  
Soon after, at the next gathering, the penultimate group were released to them: Gokuhara, Angie, and Iruma. For a long while, Gokuhara was inconsolable as he apologized profusely for what he had done to them all, only calming down when Momota promised him they were all going to move forward and leave the killing game behind them. Angie initially avoided Yumeno and Chabashira, ashamed and acting out of her usual character. However, Chabashira approached her first and offered her an apology and a truce, holding her hand out to her. She accepted as she was “added to their party” (as Yumeno put it).  
  
Iruma, on the other hand, ran to her room immediately, Akamatsu dragging Saihara behind her as she chased her. Iruma initially refused to even talk to Akamatsu, telling Saihara to leave and take his “flat chested girlfriend” with him. They did their best to calm her down, an hour long event that ended in a broken lamp and Iruma shyly mumbling an apology to “Bakamatsu.” She came back to the lounge with Akamatsu and Saihara and reintroducing herself in an uncharacteristically refined tone. Her normally boisterous attitude took a backseat as she felt her way into the group once again, her and Kiibo eventually finding themselves talking up a storm together.  
  
With the final group brought a much quieter reunion, Hoshi, Toujou, and Shinguuji joining them all for the next day's gathering. It seemed Hoshi and Toujou had already discussed the events in the program as they entered the lounge together, comfortable in each other's presence with no bad blood sensed between them. Still, Toujou addressed them all and bowed deeply, giving them her deepest apologies and promising to correct her past mistakes any way she could. Shinguuji slipped in quietly and sat furthest from the others, not needing Yumeno glaring daggers at him to feel the shame. He scratched at the surgical mask on his face lightly and refused to make eye contact with anyone who tried to approach him. Surprisingly, though, it was Angie who put a crack in the wall he put up between him and the rest, and she said she wouldn't be doing her god right if she didn't try to forgive him. It was hard to tell from where he was sitting, but Saihara swore he saw Shinguuji smile from behind the mask.  
  
At the week's end, Shirogane had even come out of hiding, less callous than she had been at first. And, with Momota and his blind confidence in belief leading them, the former students were less apprehensive to accept her once again. Not everyone, Shirogane included, had earned full forgiveness yet, but compared to where they all started it was a big step forward. Finally, they were all together.  
  
All except one.

_

 

It was early afternoon when Akamatsu plopped down in the seat next to Saihara, sighing heavily and resting her chin in her hands. “What's the matter, Akamatsu-san?” he asked, facing her. _I don't normally see her so down... Is she alright?_

“I'm really worried...” she admitted, closing her eyes and letting out another exhale through her nose.

“Worried?”

“About Ouma-kun.”

 _It's true, he's the only one that hasn't come out of his room yet_ . Saihara pondered the reasons he could be locking himself up like this, but considering he hadn't seen him at all– no one else had, in fact –he couldn't come up with a definite conclusion. _Then again, I'm sure Akamatsu-san and I are the only two thinking about him to begin with. The others haven't brought him up, since they don't exactly like him..._

“Ah, yeah... And no one has seen him, either.”

Akamatsu shook her head. “No, I saw him once. I've been trying to get him to come out for a few days now, and the first time I visited him Ouma-kun actually opened the door.” She turned and mirrored the shock on Saihara's face. “I know, right? I hadn't expected it at all. He said he didn't want to come out, because he was doing just fine without 'you losers.'”

The corners of Saihara's mouth raised in a small grin. “That sounds like Ouma-kun.”

Akamatsu didn't smile back. “Yeah, but... Maybe it's just me, but it didn't sound like he meant it... I might be looking into it too much, but it just sounded forced to me. I don't know why I let it go after that, I felt the same way when it happened.” She sighed again and leaned forward, laying her head on her folded arms.

 _So Ouma-kun is suffering like the rest of us,_ he thought as he picked at a stray thread on his sleeve. In truth, even though he knew what he said to Ouma after Gokuhara's execution were true at the time–

“ _No one wants to be around you. You're alone, and you always will be.”_

Saihara felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he remembered. After this last week, talking with and listening to the others, did he really feel the same way now? _We're all capable of healing... Of course that includes Ouma-kun, doesn’t it?_

“Still, if it's just that, then-”

“It's not just that, though,” Akamatsu suddenly interrupted, her chair squealing in protest as she pushed it back from the table to sit up straight. “I went back yesterday to try again, and he didn't open the door that time. He just... told me to go away through the door. I tried asking him to open the door, but he wouldn't say anything else. And this time...”

Saihara's brow furrowed. “This time? You mean like... just now?”

“I just came back from trying again,” she confirmed, nodding dejectedly. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “It just doesn't feel right to give up on him. But I didn't get a response at all this time. I even knocked a few times, just to make sure he was in there. I heard something from inside his room, though, so I'm sure he's in there...”

The more he heard, the more Saihara worried. _Ouma-kun isn't the kind of person to ignore someone, right? He always had something to say, even if it's just a lie... So if he's not responding at all..._

With new-found determination, he nodded and rose to his feet. “I'll go check on him. These rooms don't have locks, so maybe I can go into his room and see if he's alright and talk to him”

“Should I go with you?”

“No, it's okay. I think he might respond better to me... I think.” _I hope._

He actually had no idea how Ouma would respond to him. He'd done nothing but confuse him throughout the whole game, and especially at the end he tried his best to hide his true character. Sure, Saihara had come to understand him a little bit better after the final investigation, but with things the way they were currently, who knew how he would be now?

_We've all been through such heavy amounts of trauma, but Ouma-kun might be the worst off... The way he died, and the way he suffered before that… I don’t think he was a bad guy, at least at the start. But my heart still races when I think about confronting him again. After all he did..._

“ _I_ _wanna enjoy this game filled with suspicion and betrayal from the bottom of my heart!”_

“ _The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it.”_

“ _I stole your heart, so now I'm satisfied.”_

Another pang of guilt. _Even with everything he pulled... I can't forget the time we spent together before that._

With that thought, he steeled himself and gave Akamatsu the best attempt at a confident smile he could muster. “I'll do my best, I promise.”

Dainty fingers wrapped around his own as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will.”

The rooms in this half of the facility weren't that far apart, but the walk to Ouma's room felt like miles. He couldn't help the sudden wave of anxiety that swallowed his body whole. The last time he'd seen Ouma, they weren't exactly on good terms, to say the least. He was in his web of lies at the time, and untangling himself didn't change the feeling of fear he felt when he thought of him. Saihara definitely didn't hate Ouma, not anymore anyway. At a time, he even considered them friends. When he learned of his true plans to strike at the mastermind, Saihara was even impressed by his sheer intelligence and ability to plan ahead for anything that was thrown at him. However, that didn't change what he knew Ouma was capable of, and that's what scared him the most. He didn't know what to expect from him, even now after he was woken up from what should have been his death bed and forced back into the real world, the world outside of the game they don't remember wanting to play.

It was actually jarring to Saihara how soon he found himself at his destination. Ouma's room was only a few doors down from his own, confirmed by the small name cards next to each room. Saihara hadn't noticed until he was standing in front of his door, but his legs were shaking. His palms were damp with sweat as he clenched his hands into fists. His breathing was so much harder than it should have been.

 _I know this feeling... This raw, dense fear. This is how I felt before we entered the Exisal hanger._ That thought certainly didn't help much, as Saihara pictured the press, the blood pooled _everywhere._ He shook his head hard, as if attempting to shake the memories from his mind. _I'll never do it if I start thinking of that._ Instead, he pictured Akamatsu at his side scolding him, “You're strong! You took down an entire show, you can do anything!”

With a sudden resolve, he raised his trembling hand and gave the door three solid knocks.

Silence.

Dead air.

A pit settled in his stomach.

The hanger appeared in his mind again.

He hesitated before knocking again, less strongly than before.

Nothing.

His heartbeat echoed in his ears.

Saihara swallowed hard.

He was the one who mentioned entering Ouma's room if he didn't get an answer, but now he wasn't sure if he should. _He set up a trap, maybe... Or there'll be a dead body–_

“Stop it,” he spoke out loud, squeezing his eyes shut until he shoved the thought way into the back of his mind. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he called through the door, “Ouma-kun? I-it's me, um... Saihara. I'm going to come in, just to check on you...” The dryness of his throat made his voice crack a bit. He brought his hand slowly to the door knob and started turning it before he could convince himself not to. “Okay, I'm coming in now...”

The creaking of the door disrupting the quiet sounded so much louder to Saihara than it must have been. The fluorescent lights in the hallway flooded the dark room, lit only by the lamp on the small side table. He noticed the sheets on the bed pushed into a pile at the foot of the bed, concluding, _This room has clearly been lived in. At least I know he's been in here..._ His gaze drifted lower to the floor in front of the bed, and he saw a similar looking pile.  
  
Except this pile was moving.  
  
_So he's alive..._ he thought, releasing some of the pent up anxiety in a sigh. He took a cautious step forward, hoping to see Ouma a little better. It's not like he knew what he was doing down there, after all.  
  
A soft dripping drew Saihara's eyes to the floor next to him, to a small puddle of red.  
  
_Wait, that's– Blood??_  
  
Throwing the door closed behind him, he ran to kneel down behind Ouma, all plans of subtly announcing his presence out the window. “Ouma-kun, are you-” He put his hand on Ouma's left arm to shake him– _Why isn't he reacting to me?_ –and quickly pulled it away again when he felt warm wetness on his fingers.  
  
There was blood running down his arm.  
  
In Saihara's peripheral, he saw Ouma's right arm moving.  
  
In that hand was a letter opener, and it was moving toward his wound again.  
  
Acting on instinct, Saihara grabbed his wrist and yanked the letter opener out of his hand, surprised how easily he was able to, and threw it haphazardly into the darkness. “Hey, what's going on?!” he urged, grabbing Ouma and turning him to face Saihara.  
  
Ouma stared blankly at him, though his eyes seemed out of focus. _He's not all there, is he?_ His mouth opened a few times, no sound coming out, like a fish out of water struggling to breathe. Finally, a look of recognition crossed his features. “What...? Saihara-chan...” Ouma muttered, clearly still dazed.  
  
For a moment, Saihara felt relief. _Thank goodness, he's still here..._ However, the blood trickling down over Saihara's fingers reawakened the panic in him, and he stood and started for the door. “I-I need to go get someone, wait here-”  
  
“Don't!” Ouma's sudden shout startled him, but it got him to cease going any further. Turning around once again, for the very first time, Saihara saw something he'd never seen before.  
  
_That's real fear in his eyes._  
  
For once, he could read Ouma loud and clear. In a brief moment of vulnerability, he was shown his true feelings. Out of all of the things he expected when he entered his room, this was the furthest thing from his mind.  
  
“I... Okay,” he agreed, kneeling back down in front of the now trembling figure on the floor. “Um... At least let me help you... You're really bleeding a lot...”  
  
Just as sudden as his outburst was, the fear on Ouma's face washed away and was replaced by a bitter frown. “Alright.”  
  
Taking the opportunity to begin, Saihara looked Ouma over and assessed his situation. He didn't want to leave him alone like this, so getting actual medical supplies to clean up with would have to wait until later. _Plus I don't think I'd do a good job by myself, with this much damage. I know I should be getting someone else to deal with this, but..._ He committed to the task, grabbing the towel that was carelessly thrown down next to the side table and using it to gently wipe Ouma's arm. _If I'm going to try to talk him out of this room, he's going to have to trust me. This is the only way I can build trust between us right now._  
  
As he pressed the towel to the wound to stop the bleeding, Saihara took the time to consider Ouma in front of him. He was still in his hospital gown, not the clothing he was brought. Actually, he had no idea where they were in this room. _Not that that's the problem. He must have showered since he's been here, though, he looks clean. What made him not want to change? Though I won't find out if I ask, I bet._ He looked to Ouma's face, the boy looking at the space on the floor between the two. He held no emotion, but it wasn't like when he first found him. Before, it didn't even look like he was conscious; now, though, Saihara could see he was wide awake, deep in thought, he presumed. _Would he even respond if I tried to talk to him?_  
  
When a few minutes had passed, and Saihara cleaned his arm to the best of his ability, he tied the towel around his arm to use it as a makeshift bandage. For a brief moment he felt nostalgic, remembering a time before the final act began and their world fell apart before them. Him bandaging Ouma's fingers, with him laughing the entire time... _I want to relive that. I'd like to have that Ouma again._  
  
“Okay, that should do it for now... Um...” He swallowed as Ouma looked up at him. “I... I still want to talk to you, so could we sit on the bed?”  
  
Ouma surprised him again, standing up before Saihara. “Gonna interrogate me even now, Saihara-chan?”  
  
“N-no, it's not like that-!”  
  
“Still, I'll talk to you.” He plopped down unceremoniously on the side of the bed, swinging his feet and brushing his toes against the floor. “I can't promise you'll get anything out of me, though.”  
  
_Of course_ . Licking his dry lips, Saihara got up and sat awkwardly next to him, keeping distance between them. He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask him first, despite being the one that wanted to talk to him, but Ouma didn't speak either. They sat in silence for a few long, painful minutes.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Saihara finally asked, “Ouma-kun... What were you doing?”  
  
A beat, as Ouma considered his question. “What was I doing? Is this a trick question? Was it too dark for you or something, because you must have seen it, right?”  
  
“I _know_ , but why were you... Look, that was a huge cut, it couldn't have been an accident, so why...” he trailed off. All the words in the world couldn't explain how conflicted he was feeling. It seemed so out of the realm of possibilities of things Ouma would do, but he just wasn't sure either.  
  
“Are you using your detective skills to solve me again? Oh, well, actually I guess they were just implanted skills after all, so you're really just wasting your time.”  
  
Saihara bit his tongue. _Of course he's still going to be like... this. He's so frustrating..._ And yet, he couldn't find it in him to stay upset with him. He couldn't hear any of the bite or the familiar teasing lilt in Ouma's voice he used to have. He's lying, even now.  
  
“Please... Please tell me.”  
  
Instead of an answer, Ouma asked a question of his own. “Saihara-chan. You know what happened in there, right? You solved my case, didn't you? And I'm sure Momota-chan told you all about our conversation once you found him out, found out our plan.” He paused, but Saihara didn't answer. So, Ouma continued. “Do you know... how it feels to die? It felt like hours, you know. Not just the poison, though that was its own torture. I mean, being crushed.” He laughed a little, but there was no feeling behind it. Just an empty sound. A lie. “Stupid, huh? It was instant, so how is that possible? Maybe that virtual program made me endure the pain as a way to punish me further for losing the game.”  
  
“Ouma-kun, I don't-”  
  
“I still feel it. The pain.” Ouma turned his head to look at Saihara, nothing but hopelessness sinking into his eyes. “I've hardly slept since they put my... _avatar_ or whatever back in me. When I start to fall asleep, my body burns like I've been poisoned again, and I'm completely paralyzed. I have nightmares of laying on that press. Do you know how it feels to be stuck in your own memory like that? To relive it every time you close your eyes?”  
  
Sure, Saihara could partially understand that, but nothing like what was being described to him. Sometimes, looking at his friends, their dead bodies are all he can see. Their screams echo in his brain and jolt him from his sleep. In fact, he's still afraid that this is a dream, and when he wakes up he'll be looking up at the shattered dome with Harukawa and Yumeno, and his friends will still be dead. But all of that, it couldn't compare to remembering your own death.  
  
Saihara's voice was barely above a whisper when he asked, “What about when you're awake...? Does it happen then, too?”  
  
He almost expected Ouma to start laughing at him and telling him it was all a lie, but he nods instead. “That's what you just saw.” Ouma went back to watching his feet swing beneath him. “I'll get these intense memories, and my arm starts burning and I want it to stop. During the time the doctors were evaluating me, I stole that letter opener off of a desk just in case I ever needed it. It's not like they'd keep anything sharper around us.” He shrugged, as if what he was describing was the most normal thing in the world. “So, I tried to see if I could get the poison to bleed out.”  
  
As shocking as it was, it made sense. In the middle of a hallucination like that, it would probably seem like something sensible to try. Still though, to cut open your own arm like that... It's so extreme, it's not something most people would try to do... Saihara sighed. “Well, I'm really glad you're okay. Akamatsu-san and I were worried about you.”  
  
Ouma snorted and kicked his feet a bit harder. “If you call this okay, then sure. You didn't have to worry about me. No one else is, right?” Saihara couldn't answer. He knew the answer, they both knew the answer, but he couldn't make himself say it. “Right?” he repeated, making it clear he wanted an answer.  
  
Opening his mouth a bit in hesitation, he mumbled, “I haven't heard anyone ask about you...”  
  
“Thought so. Everyone hates me anyway. It's fine.” He stretched his legs out. “You should, too. What would everyone else think if they knew you were here with me?”  
  
This was going nowhere, and irritation was bubbling in Saihara's chest. “W-who cares about that? I am worried, and I have a right to be considering what I walked in on.”  
  
“How do you know I'm even telling the truth right now? Maybe I'm just lying to you.”  
  
“Even so, I-!” He inhaled sharply, taking a second to calm down. Getting angry wouldn't help either of them. “I'm still worried about you. Even if the others aren't, I'm worried.”  
  
Ouma just shrugged, unaffected by Saihara's outburst. “Well, I wouldn't worry about me. I don't like myself either.”  
  
His previous anger dissipated immediately upon hearing those words, a cold shock replacing it. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”  
  
When Ouma spoke again, he had to lean in closer to hear him. His soft voice began again, “I can't remember before the game. I can't remember what I was like before the game. We're supposed to regain our memories, but... I don't know how much of my personality is actually me and how much is fake, was just the producers fucking with my identity. I was hated from day one, all the way to the end. Even before I pushed everyone away from me, I was hated. And-” He stopped himself to take in a slow, shaky breath. His hands were gripping the mattress tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. His head turned away a little more, as if seeing Saihara out of the corner of his eye was too much for him. “And I wonder if they even changed my personality at all. That would mean I've always been a lying, conniving brat. And if they did change me, when my memories come back what if I somehow hate my real personality more? What if I'll never have a sense of who I am again? I think about all of that... and I can't help but not even want my memories back in the first place. Not if it's causing me this much grief.”  
  
This blunt honesty from Ouma had Saihara taken aback. He had never been this open about his feelings and thoughts before. Even when he was honest, it was always mixed with lies. _Can I even believe him right now?_ And yet, through all of the doubt he felt, there was one thing he felt certain about: _I see none of the malice Ouma was before. None of the cruelty. The oppressive atmosphere he carried is gone, and I don't feel afraid to be near him like this. It's like he's a different person... But he's just... traumatized and scared like the rest of us. He's not the only one in this position, even if his is an extreme case. He's just vulnerable... Maybe that's what's making me want to believe him right now._  
  
“Ouma-kun... Is that true?”  
  
He giggled, the same one he'd heard hundreds of times before, but once again it was hollow. “Nope, it's a lie. At least, that's what you want me to say, right?” He sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking slightly lower. “Saihara-chan, I don't even have the energy to lie. How messed up is that?” A smile formed on his chapped lips, the only lie he could give Saihara. If that's the extent of his lies, how much had he been suffering in here all alone?  
  
“Well, you know... If you feel alone, you're not the only one feeling like this,” Saihara finally replied, pressing his palms into the mattress. “We were all part of the same game, and we've all got our own trauma and pain to work though. So... So come out and... we can help.”  
  
“Saihara-chan... You're a hypocrite.”  
  
“H-huh?” he sputtered. _Well, I wasn't expecting_ that _response._  
  
Ouma turned toward him with a disapproving frown. Raising his voice he snapped, “You're scared, too. You're trying to tell me you want to help, but you were afraid just to come talk to me. After all you went through, you're scared of recovery. You know what this game has done to you, to all of us, because that's how we ended up like this. After everything, you're still hesitating. How can someone who's hesitating like this preach to me on recovery?”  
  
He was right, he was scared. Hell, he was terrified. Who knew what would happen from here for any of them? He truly felt the same way as Ouma. _But then again, we all do. And, I know Ouma has changed. He's willing to spill his heart out to me like this, he would never have exposed himself in that game. Doesn't that show progress? That he's able to heal after all?_ Saihara shifted on the bed, pressing his feet against the floor to ground himself. He studied Ouma's face, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the shadows in the dark room. _He wouldn't even have let me get this far if he hadn't changed from the game. Isn't that proof enough?_  
  
Saihara balled his fists in the bedsheet under him. “I-I've never been good at being confident, you know. I didn't even really start opening up until Akamatsu-san helped me. But,” he sat up straighter, “look at us. In the state we're in now... We don't have anything to lose by trying, right? So... Let's take advantage of this second chance, because maybe something good will come out of it after all.”  
  
Ouma's face was neutral as he considered Saihara's words, slightly tilting his head to the side. _He doesn't look mad, that's a good sign, I think... I can only hope this'll work out..._  
  
Suddenly, he softly shoved Saihara's arm. “So cheesy... You're such a protagonist,” Ouma joked, finally cracking a genuine smile. Saihara relaxed upon hearing the fond tone in his voice, feeling like he achieved a victory. Ouma laid his head on his shoulder and continued, “While I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind if it was just the two of us. You're the only one that gives me a sense of normalcy.”  
  
The weight on his shoulder sent swarms of butterflies to his stomach, cheeks heating up significantly. _What was Ouma doing?_ And yet, the subtle intimacy, while extremely nerve wracking, felt... natural. For as nervous as he was, he didn't want Ouma to move.  
  
“W-what does that mean?” He couldn't stop the crack in his voice as he asked, reddening his face further.  
  
He didn't lift his head, and instead scooted closer until their bodies were pressed together. Then, that signature giggle again. “Always clueless, aren't you?”

The sudden quickening of his heartbeat made it difficult to think straight, not to mention the way the soft strands of Ouma's hair were tickling his cheek. How had the mood shifted this fast?? _Ugh, focus, at least now it should be easier to ask him, right?_

Saihara cleared his throat. “Anyway... Were you ever told about the group gatherings they want us to have?”

“Oh, I'm not gonna go to those?”

 _Figures._ He bit back the retort for now. “You're not?”

Ouma hummed. “Of course not, I don't see how it'll help. Did you already forget what I told you?”

He hadn't forgotten, but that didn't mean he knew what to do about it. At this rate, Ouma will hide himself in his room forever. “Don't you think it's worth a try?”

“Hmm... Nope.”

 _Time for a different approach then._ “What if I asked you to go?”

“Huuuh? You're not the boss of me, you can't make me go just because you want me to.”

“Well, did _you_ forget what I told you? You have nothing to lose by going, even if it's only once.” Two could play at this game, and Saihara could play it well.

He felt Ouma shift against him as he huffed. “Fiiine! I'll think about it, okay? But now let me ask you something.”

That was the closest he was going to get to a yes for now, so Saihara left it alone. “Uh, what is it?”

Ouma didn't ask right away. He couldn't see his face, but he swore something in the air changed around them as Saihara waited for him to speak. His feelings were confirmed when Ouma began talking, because it didn't sound like him; his voice was so... _meek_. Nothing at all like the Ouma he knew, or thought he knew.

“Is it really okay to get a second chance for what we did?”

_Huh?_

Before Saihara could answer, he kept going, his words coming out faster with each sentence. “Is it really okay for some of us to have been woken up at all? It is okay that someone wasn't left behind to rot with everyone else's sins?” Ouma's voice cracked, threatening to clog up in his throat, but it was like he didn't even notice as he _kept going._ “Someone who sabotaged everyone at every turn? Someone who no one could forgive? Someone who can't even be honest with themselves? Is it really okay?”

Saihara's mind was left spinning trying to wrap his head around what Ouma could possibly be talking about. _Rot with everyone else's sins? What does that mean?_ He couldn't understand it at all. “Ouma-kun, I...” He was truly speechless. He didn't have an answer to those questions. How could he have an answer when he didn't even understand the questions? Why would he ask all of that? _Who could he possibly be referring to? Who does he think this of? It doesn't make sense, unless–_

_Oh._

It hit him.

_Himself._

Saihara turned and grabbed both of Ouma's shoulders, pushing him gently off of his shoulder to face him. Ouma wasn't crying, but even in the low lamplight he could see how red his eyes were. “There's no one like that here. No one's sins are worse than another. We were manipulated to act for the game.”

He felt Ouma's shoulders start to shake under his grip, and he couldn't help comparing him to a glass doll, one fracture away from shattering in his hands. “You saw what I did,” he muttered, breath stuttering as he inhaled and tried to keep himself steady. “You... know how the others feel. I threw you all aside for my own goals. You should hate me.” He tried to break free of Saihara's hold, but he held strong. “Manipulated or not, you should _hate_ me.”

And yet...

 _We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him_.

The piles of evidence left strewn across his room; the Hope's Peak history book left in his lab; the hints he gave between the teasing and lies; his final plan to trip up the mastermind; they were all pieces to finish the puzzle and finish the game for good.

And, the memory that tugged at his heart the most...

“ _Now, you'll never_ ever _forget me for the rest of your life. I stole your heart, so now I'm satisfied!_ ”

Pulling him into a tight hug, Saihara shook his head. He buried his face in Ouma's wild hair and held him as tight as he could, transferring all of his feelings to him in the embrace. “That's wrong, Ouma-kun... If it wasn't for you, if it wasn't for the work you did... I don't think we ever would have put the pieces together. We wouldn't have had what we needed to take down Team Danganronpa. Even if... Even if you did inexcusable things... It's nothing that can't be forgiven.” He smiled against the top of his head as he felt Ouma stop shaking against him. “There's nothing you can't be forgiven for. And... I'll be by your side.”

Slowly, he felt arms reaching up to wrap around his body, Ouma squeezing him back. This time, he wasn't surprised by the affection, he just happily accepted it. “Stupid Saihara-chan...” he whispered, but Saihara still felt him smile against his neck.

_

 

“What? Are you serious?” Akamatsu asked, practically on the edge of her seat. While waiting for the group gathering that night to start, Saihara has explained his encounter with Ouma. He left some details out, namely the more _intimate_ ones, but as long as she got the basics it was alright he figured. 

“Yeah, it was... stressful, but I got him to consider joining us tonight at least,” he sighed. “Though, it's almost time, and he's not here yet...”

Akamatsu crossed her arms and hummed in thought. “Well... Even if he doesn't come, you at least got to talk to him. I think he'll come around eventually.”

As if on cue, the lounge door opened. Saihara quickly glanced over to see, but it was only the psychologist. No Ouma. His shoulders sank as he relaxed back into his seat, and Akamatsu softly patted his back in comfort.

So began the gathering, with the psychologist asking them all questions that sounded like they were pulled right out of a therapy how-to textbook and trying to pry answers out of the group, with little success as usual. It was always like this, since they were still together all the time anyway, but what else could they do with nothing else going on? Everything was going just as they always had, until the door slowly creaked open.

Clad in sweatpants that were a little too long for him, Ouma peeked his head from around the doorway. All eyes were on him as they murmured amongst each other and watched him closely, but Saihara's face lit up in shock. _He came!_

“Oh,” the psychologist said, turning to the newcomer, “you've finally come out of your hiding spot, then! Excellent, that makes everyone. Go ahead and take the last seat.”

Saihara watched as Ouma's eyes darted between him and the empty chair across the room (next to Harukawa, no less). Brows furrowing as his face dropped, he moved to dash off again.

“Ouma-kun, wait!” he called on impulse. All eyes were on him as he swallowed hard, the whisperings between the others continuing, but he didn't back down. He _wouldn’t_ back down. Ouma stopped, and that's all he wanted.

He crossed the room to grab the final chair, pulling it over and setting it between him and Akamatsu and motioning Ouma toward him with a warm smile. Saihara watched him consider it, the calculations in his brain obvious on his face, before he complied and sat down. Ouma pulled the chair slightly behind Saihara's in an attempt to avoid the piercing glares directed at him. Still, with a satisfied sigh Saihara turned and gave Akamatsu a smile. _I did it._

As the hour wore on, he felt an unsure hand curl around his own.

He held on Ouma's hand tightly in return. They were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> aaand this monster of a work is done! this has been a work in progress for over a month now, mostly because I just ended up getting busy and I wasn't able to write. but it's finally done!
> 
> I still have a ton of plans for this AU, and not just for Ouma and Saihara. I wanna get into so many of the other characters too, because there's so much potential for all of them. I wanted to get more into some of them here, but I figured I would save it for the future. otherwise what am I gonna write about, right?
> 
> anyway, I hope you liked this part 1! catch me on tumblr for memes if you want.  
> hexmaniacshroom.tumblr.com  
> *finger guns out of this dimension*


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